#weip

The moment that Makoto stepped into Hope’s Peak Academy for the first time changed his life forever. The moment that Makoto left Hope’s Peak Academy for the last time changed his life forever. It truly felt like even now, years later, that everything began and ended with that school. It was a blessing and a curse, a spectacle of both humanity’s highest highs and lowest lows. And now Makoto found himself as the spokesperson for humanity’s highest highs.

Makoto was now the moral compass that everyone looked to for direction. People around the world looked to him with utmost fate and trust, to decide all by himself how the new future will create itself. Makoto began his journey as the epitome of normalcy, and now he was anything but.

Makoto gave a quiet laugh as Kyoko fixed his tie for him (again), “I never thought the day would come where I would wish to be normal.”

She paused in tying the knot, right before she was about to pull it tighter. And while her stern gaze was bland to the untrained eye, Makoto could see the amusement. “I believe it.”

“I never thought anything would ever make me special in the first place.” He said. Kyoko hummed when he placed a hand over one of hers.

“No one could ever predict this future we call the present, least of all your role in it.”

“It just still feels so surreal to me… I mean, The Ultimate Hope? Me?”

“I would say that you’ve earned the title.” She leaned in even closer, close enough that they were essentially forehead to forehead without properly crossing the threshold. “Defeating Enoshima Junko was no small task. The world seems to agree with me.”

“I guess it just feels like…”

Makoto looked again in the mirror, remembering the time that his mother had fussed over making sure he looked perfect for his first day at Hope’s Peak. His hair had been slicked down to an offensive degree, only to bounce back to life an hour into the day. She spent hours telling him how to fix his tie, worried that he wouldn’t fit in with the elite and giddy that her son was now one of them. Makoto’s clumsy fingers never quite figured out the technique. His tie was always loose, lopsided, clearly done by, as Byakuya put it, an ignorant amatuer. Both he and Kyoko had repeated the steps with him several times over, just as his mother tried.

He never really knew what he was doing.

Kyoko's mouth briefly twitched, before she focused her gaze back to her hands. Makoto didn’t know how to finish his thought, how to give voice to the feelings buzzing in his heart. But luckily, they had gotten to the point where Makoto didn’t have to say it anymore. They had gone through a forgotten childhood together, experienced unimaginable trauma hand-in-hand. Kyoko didn’t go through the trouble of tying Makoto’s necktie prior to every meeting just for the sake of it. Kyoko didn’t stand there, wasting time as she idly stood with her long forgotten task still laying in her hands without reason. Being so close to the man she graced with the highest honor, being so close to cradling his cheek in her hands…

The tie began to tighten around his neck.

“Do you think it’s a bad thing?” She asked, smothering the other questions she had loaded in her mind. She wanted so badly to just interrogate him, to simply hold the straightforward information to her quandaries. Does he resent the new Makoto that he was forced to become? Did he find honor in his new duties? Does he understand how special he is? How normal he is? Does he understand the rest of his life will be defined by publicized trauma?

“It’s not bad…” His gaze averted the reflections stare, “it’s just…”

“Do you wish you could go back to being normal?”

“I would wish almost anything if it meant our friends would be here with us today.”

“You know what I meant, Naegi-kun.”

“Yeah, I do…” He stepped back, turning to face the mirror and admire her handiwork. It was perfectly crafted, he looked far more poised than he could ever hope to feel. Kyoko stood idly by, her hands still somewhat raised- resting awkwardly at stomach level- watching him with calculative thoughts. Makoto began to roll the end of his tie over his pointer finger, humming in thought. He didn’t turn back to her. She lowered her hands.

“But…” he said, “I think that this is all worth it, you know? To be able to give this much hope to so many people…I’m glad that the world has something to look forward to again.”

“Save the lovely words for your speech, Naegi-Kun.”

She smiled at the laugh that rang out. “You’re right, as always.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I still get so nervous, even though I’ve done these speeches for a few years now.”

The bags under his eyes certainly agreed. It was hard to imagine that such an Atlus-sized burden rested on the shoulders of a man with chronic baby face. It was charming. It was tragic. She fished for the words to be just as encouraging as he.

“You’ll do great, like you always do.” Close enough.

Somehow, Makoto always managed to find such inspiration in simple awkward gestures. His face brightened up, warming her heart like it does a thousand times a day. “I’ll make sure to do right by your faith, Kirigiri-san!”

Naegi Makoto’s speeches could be described as a charity event designed to give out hope to the masses. On top of his other Future Foundation and HPA rebuilding duties, Makoto was set to regularly visit settlements and inspire them. With each speech being broadcast around the world, his influence only gathered more and more notoriety, which further increased the amount of hope he could bring with a visit. It was a role too big for his shoes to fill, and yet he still managed to balance it all. Makoto constantly teetered on the edge of collapsing under the pressure, but always stubbornly refused to give.

“Someone has to do it.” He always said, and that someone happened to be him.

Of course, Makoto wished more than anything that one day the world would heal enough that he wouldn’t be the world’s sole motivator. But that is then, and this is now.

“You know, onii-chan used to run home every day after school to try and watch Sayaka-chan’s concerts in secret. Hard to believe someone so embarrassing could be so important now, right?”

“Were you not also a big fan of Maizono-san’s work?”

“I still am! But onii-chan is wayyy more embarrassing, trust me!”

——

“I have a question for you, Naegi-san, if you don’t mind.”

Komaru huffed, puffing out her cheeks and swinging her legs. “Kyoko-chan, please! We’ve known each other for so long! And you mean a lot to onii-chan! Just call me Komaru, already.”

Kyoko stared.

“C’mon! At least give it a try: ‘Ko-ma-ru-chan!’”

Komaru smiled in expectation, only to pout when Kyoko shut her eyes. Kyoko then took a deep breath in through her nose and released it through her mouth.

When she opened her eyes again, she said “Komaru-san.”

Komaru lowered her head with a dejected sigh, “we’ll get there one day.”

“May I ask my question now?”

Komaru shuffled closer to Kyoko, but maintained the casual posture that Kyoko couldn’t help but envy. Somehow, Komaru always looked so comfortable with the life she’s grown into. Toko was right when she said Komaru gained confidence through their adventures. Kyoko didn’t bother moving from her spot, after all she had the perfect view of the stage, just the right spot between the crowd so that when Makoto began his speech, she would be able to digest it all.

Komaru didn’t cease her shuffling until her knee was just next to Kyoko’s shoulder. Her eyes expectant. Komaru and Kyoko didn’t interact often, especially without Makoto to act as a buffer. Kyoko wasn’t the type to ask casual questions even to a good friend.

Kyoko stared at the lonesome microphone up on the stage, burning in the spotlight. “Do you have any plans to pick up some of your brother’s Ultimate Hope duties?”

Komaru leaned back, smile dropped, “eh?”

“Such as being a motivational figure, attempting to raise morale in groups, and peacekeeping when there is infighting. The occasional act of standing up to any of Enoshima Junko’s copycats. That sort of thing. Do you plan to pick any of it up?”

Komaru pursed her lips, “Well, I..uhm.” She played with the hem of her skirt, hands squeezing the fabric repeatedly. Suddenly she was much closer than she was before. Her posture was now much more awkward as she bent over to be at ear level with Kyoko.She opened her mouth, but hesitated, glancing at the crowd around them. It was as though she was speaking an intimate secret.

“I’m..not my brother.”

“I am aware.”

“I can never be Makoto.”

“I strongly disagree.”

Komaru’s shoulders were tightly drawn up, “what do you mean by that…?”

“Fukawa-san, Togami-kin, even Naegi-kun have told me all about your travels. You were able to achieve much in that short amount of time, and you still are. You should be very proud.”

Komaru shot a quick look towards the megaphone attached to her hip, then to the empty stage, then to Kyoko again. “I mean…yeah but, that was different.”

“Was it? Was Towa Monaca not a similar foe to Enoshima Junko? Did you not manage to defy the normal standard put upon you? Did you not manage to offer a new perspective in the face of two stubborn groups? Did you not survive when all odds were against you?”

“That’s because I had Toko-chan…”

“Naegi-kun would say the same with regards to me. But it was you, not her, who achieved the impossible.”

“People wouldn’t ever listen to me, I’m just-“

“You’re the Ultimate Hope’s little sister, it is the perfect image for a new figurehead.”

[desceription for paced pause]

“Look, Kyoko. Of course, I’ll always fight against some jerk who’s on the side of despair or whatever, but I’m not really doing it because I’m actively fighting for hope…I do it because they’re always some huge psycho trying to mass murder people or whatever…”

“You are still a part of the fight in that scenario.”

“But it’s different from onii-chan! I don’t go out of my way to do that stuff.”

“Any reason why?”

“I dunno I just… don’t want to, I guess. I’m not Makoto. I don’t have that same resolve or determination. I’ll help of course, but that level of responsibility is way too much for me. The stuff I do in Towa City with Toko-Chan is already a lot to handle…”

The crowd suddenly erupted into cheers, briefly cutting their conversation short. Makoto was now on stage, awkwardly waving to the crowd in a way that only furthered the crowd’s love for him. In that time, Kyoko forced herself to settle down. It wasn’t like her to let emotions lead a conversation. This line of questioning started out with a simple curiosity, how did it become so…

Komaru watched her brother take his place in the spotlight, all amusement from before was gone. She was tense, her eyebrows were drawn close in contemplation.

…How did it become so uncomfortable?

Makoto began to speak, but Komaru couldn’t let their conversation go. Not yet, anyway.

“I think I’m just selfish.” She said.

Kyoko watched Makoto take on the curse she gave to him. “I think I am too.”

Holding eye contact suddenly became a foreign task between the two. Kyoko recognized this specific familiar feeling. It was one created by being raised into someone who saw every situation as nothing more than another puzzle to analyze. One that left no room for connections others would deem necessary. It was the feeling of being strangers to someone you should know intimately.

Kyoko felt like there were words that needed to be said. But how could she begin to start when she wasn’t even sure how she felt, let alone how Komaru felt? Perhaps “I’m sorry” was the way to go, but Kyoko didn’t want to be inauthentic either. That conversation was necessary, Kyoko knew that in her heart, so she didn’t regret bringing it up…

But she did regret what it was. Nothing made sense anymore after the world had reset, it was impossible to fathom the weight that was carried with taking on some of Makoto’s burden. Somehow though…Kyoko thought that Komaru would jump at any opportunity to be more like her brother. He was enamored, the perfect underdog story, like his entire life was perfectly crafted to make people empathize with his story. And if there was anything Kyoko had learned about normal people throughout her life…and especially after unpacking the mysteries of the Neo World Program…it was that normal people would jump at any expense to be anything but normal.

But Komaru didn’t. It was a full rejection. That should’ve been a good thing, right? Komaru was content with her life, she didn’t feel the need to overexert herself in the attempt to achieve the impossible.

Makoto was content with his life now, wasn’t he?

Kyoko pinched the bridge of her nose, all of Makoto’s words blurred into fuzzy overly simplistic nonsense that she couldn’t hold onto anymore. She couldn’t even hold onto the memory of the outline he had her review, it was all background noise to the dissertation happening in her mind. Was it odd to have just a mental debate about the ideals of someone who was standing right next to you?

Why did Kyoko want Komaru to say yes so bad to a question she wished Makoto would say no to-

“Komaru-san, I-“

Komaru hissed out a sharp “shh!”

Kyoko winced. She slipped far enough into her own mind that she forgot her manners. They were still in the middle of a grand speech after all, of course Komaru wanted to offer her support. “…You’re right, I apologize-”

“No- I…” Komaru clicked her tongue, “… don’t you feel that?”

All Kyoko could feel was a dry throat from the poor air quality of the settlement, “feel what?”

“Like…a super bad feeling?”

“You shushed me over a bad feeling?”

“Yes! Now shh! You’re a detective, don’t you ever get some Sherlock Intuition or something?”

“I feel the need to clarify that I am not an anime character.”

Komaru ignored Kyoko, instead she glared around at the various people sitting in the settlement. She scanned them as thoroughly as she could, as though she could pick out the source of a gut feeling with her eyes and solve it then and there. But it all felt so normal. It was a sight that Kyoko had seen a million times and will see a million more. Maybe it shouldn’t; be normal, but it was. All that mattered to Kyoko at the moment was the Naegis.

“Komaru-san-“

BANG!

Kyoko felt her breath leave her body as the crowd erupted into startled shrieks. Komaru had flinched back, nearly falling off the ledge she sat on. “What was that!?” Komaru yelled, only added to the cacophony of pedestrians asking similar questions. People pushed and stood on their toes to try and understand what was happening, why so many people sounded panicked and scared. The screams from the front of the crowd got louder, and like the roaring sea it traveled up in a massive foreboding wave. An ear bleeding shrill caused people to cover their ears, the telltale sound of a microphone screaming as it hit the floor.

“Kyoko-chan, what’s going on?” Komaru looked confused.

Kyoko felt far more than confused.

Kyoko knew that sound anywhere. The one that started this mess.

That had been the sound of a gunshot.

“Kyoko-chan?” Komaru’s subdued voice felt muffled through the icy layers of panic. The gunshot, although loud, had been muffled. The gunman used a suppressor. It would be hard to estimate where it came from now. Kyoko needed more evidence. She needed the facts, she needed to know. It was difficult to discern any more information from the scene, when the crowd had become nothing more than a mob seeking refuge. People were shoving each other, weaving in random directions, dropping personal items. They were disorganizing the already messy crime scene that Kyoko had only barely just begun to try and understand. Distantly, she felt two pairs of hands cling to her arm. She didn’t look down, too busy trying to find any suspicious parties in the crowd, but she knew that Komaru was anchoring herself to Kyoko. She didn’t want to lose her in this insanity.